


Blue Days and Green Days

by Fangirlyra



Series: King!Bilbo AU [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Dwarf Culture & Customs, Flower language and symbology, Fluff, Hobbit Culture & Customs, King!Bilbo, Misunderstandings, Multi, slightly angsty humour, soon to be consort!Thorin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:34:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24693850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fangirlyra/pseuds/Fangirlyra
Summary: Dís was checking on their food stock one spring morning when the news of Thorin’s arrival back in the Blue Mountains reached her. Her heart dropped when she heard that it was only Thorin and none of the rest of the company that went to reclaim Erebor. This could only mean one thing: their quest has failed and everyone else is slain,including her sons.Thorin was in very good spirits when he reached the Blue Mountains. The last couple of weeks in The Shire had been blissful, Bilbo had beenquite enthusiasticnow that they were in the privacy of his own home. He strode down the street with purpose, eager to see Dís and tell his sister that they have reclaimed Erebor. He stopped dead when he spotted her.Why does she looked like she was about to murder him!?
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dís & Thorin Oakenshield
Series: King!Bilbo AU [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/62471
Comments: 24
Kudos: 338





	1. Dís was Having a Bad Day

**Author's Note:**

> This story is set in my King!Bilbo AU. It picked up not long after we left off in the last story (Thorin & Bilbo arrived at Bag End before Bilbo could be declared dead) and (at least for me) this is an epilogue of sorts.
> 
> For you who don't feel like reading "Baggins of The Shire" first, here's a summary:  
> 1\. Bilbo (and Bagginses before him, is King of The Shire)  
> \- Mister Baggins is equal to Your Majesty  
> 2\. Thorin can't be King Under the mountain because _reasons_.  
> \- Fili is now King & Kili is the crown prince
> 
> That's all! Happy reading :)

It was an exceptionally beautiful spring day in the Blue Mountains. It was the kind of day where dwarves would come out of their halls and think of all of the lovely things they would craft. It was a perfect day with clear blue skies and even dwarves who enjoyed living underneath stones would go out to have long walks with their lover or dwarflings would play outside without their cloaks, no longer bothered by the tail end of winter chill. However Dís, daughter of Thrain, Princess of the line of Durin, was doing none of this.

In fact she was having a headache. 

She was inside Thorin’s office with ledgers strewn around her. Her sons were dwarves grown, though her youngest was barely of age, and they had gone off with her brother in his quest to reclaim their ancestral home thirteen months ago. Dís was left behind, in these halls named after her brother, in the  _ city _ named after her brother, to rule in her brother’s stead. She looked around the office she had been working from in the last year, she suppose she could claim the office as hers if she had ever wanted to.

If Dís was being honest with herself, what she wanted the most at the moment was neither the office, nor Thorin, and not even her sons. She never wanted the office, her brother was even worse than her at paperwork, and her sons will be no help at all. Who she needed right now is  _ Balin,  _ thirteen months without the dwarf’s meticulousness left the Blue Mountains’ food stock ledger an absolute mess. It was an easy winter and their food stock should be plenty, Dís  _ knew _ it was plenty, she had seen it herself in the storage halls. But the numbers in the Mahal damned ledger suggested that they would starve within a couple of months.

Dís rubbed her temple and picked up another ledger from last autumn where she suspected things started to go wrong in the records. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her that she had missed lunchtime. Hepti used to snuck a plate to her whenever she missed mealtimes but since Bombur went with Thorin she became too busy. She was working in one of the communal kitchens on top of caring for  _ seven dwarflings _ \- all under the age of fifty. Dís did not know how Hepti did it, she had enough trouble raising Fíli and Kíli even with Thorin’s help after Vili passed on. 

Dís muttered a curse to Thorin under her breath for going on a suicidal quest and  _ taking her sons  _ with him. Then she quickly offered a prayer to Mahal for the company’s safety, just in case the Valar is actually listening this time. Dís looked at the autumn ledger again and spotted a mistake, an incoming shipment had been mistakenly put down as outcoming. Now she needed to adjust  _ everything _ according to that discrepancy and hoped that it would reflect their actual stock in the end. If not, she will have to do it all  _ again. _

Her headache became stronger. 

She marked the mistake and rummaged around for a blank book, resigned to an afternoon of accounting, when she heard a knock on the door.

“Come in!” called Dís.

The door opened and a stunningly beautiful dwarrowdam entered. Her hair was perfectly curled and coiffed, her beard was intricately bearded, and her gown was neat and crisp.

“ _ Uzbadnâtha _ ,” the dwarf greeted and looked around the room, “still?”

“Aye,” sighed Dís, “What can I do for you Ruva?”

“I was wondering if I could tempt you to lunch outside?” asked Ruva delicately.

“I have eaten,” said Dís, but her stomach decided to rumble traitorously at that moment.

Ruva looked at her disbelievingly but she decided not to call her out on the obvious lie.

“It is too beautiful a day to stay inside,” she said instead.

Dís was slightly embarrassed at being caught in a lie but grateful that Ruva decided not to mention it. She put down the papers she was working on and relented,

“I could use a break,” she said.

Ruva smiled and led them out of the office. Dís nodded at the guard at her door and followed Ruva to the kitchens. They took a bowl of stew each and a loaf of bread and headed out. They found a nice flat rock under a tree at the north of  _ Thorinmekhm _ (Thorin’s gate) not far away from the halls and seated themselves comfortably. Dís felt her headache slowly seeped away as the gentle mountain breeze rustled the leaves in the tree.

“Where was Finn?” asked Ruva as they dug into their meals, “Why aren’t they helping you?”

Finn was the dwarf in charge of the food ledgers while Balin was away and it was their mess that Dís had to deal with that day.

“They were at the brink of a breakdown late last night,” answered Dís flatly, “So I told them to take the day off today.”

Ruva laughed at her answer.

“ _ Gamz Uzbadnâtha u Durinul _ they called you, tougher than iron,” she said, “but they didn’t realize that you have a soft core.”

“Their fretting was not helping,” Dís shot back, “Anyway I have found one major error but I cannot be sure that it was the only error in the ledgers. At this point it probably would be faster if we do a manual recount of what is in the stock.”

“We could do that,” said Ruva, “We have enough dwarves for it to be done in a few days.”

“The option became more and more attractive by the hour.” said Dís, “but enough about  _ my _ work, how are our finances?”

Ruva was one half of the pair that were responsible for the settlement’s finances. Her husband, Glóin was excellent at finding new opportunities and avenues to pursue but Ruva is the one that made sure they worked to their advantages. Dís thought that it was nothing short of wizardry what the dwarrowdam could do with a limited budget.

“We shall survive,” answered Ruva easily, “Reports from the mines said that what little gold we have was drying out but we found new iron veins last week and both the rich and the poor always needed iron.”

Dís hummed thoughtfully in response, their settlement here was not rich compared to the glory of Erebor but they had prospered and their number had slowly grown since they arrived fourteen decades ago. 

Dís barely remembered Erebor, she was only ten years old, a toddler clutched in her mother’s chest when they escaped the dragon’s fire. But she remembered clearly the day they arrived here: her brother Frerin was one of the burned dwarves, lost in a battle he was too young to be in, her father and countless other dwarves grievously injured, and Thorin, who was only fifty-five years old at that time, had rallied the dwarves and said,

“We will make our lives here. We are children of Durin and we are made to  _ endure! _ The hammer and the pike will keep our arms strong until they can wield sharper tools once more!”

Thorin’s words raised the spirits of the weary dwarves and Dís found  _ hope _ . They called their first city here  _ Thraindabn _ (vale of Thrain) and as their people grew in numbers they founded  _ Thorinmekhm _ to be their capital. The cities were unlike most dwarves settlements in middle earth, they did not have halls and hallways carved into the mountains. Instead, their folks lived in houses made out of wood and stones and their roads were open to the air. But they were no longer the wandering clan, laboring in the villages of men. 

Here she found  _ love _ , in the shape of the golden haired Vili son of Gili, a miner and as common as one could come. Dís never thought she would be grateful that their father disappeared but at that time she was. Thorin had congratulated her without a doubt and no one dared to remark on Vili’s commonness in the face of Thorin’s overwhelming acceptance, her father would not be anywhere as accepting. Their wedding had caused nine days of celebrations in the vale and the capital.

Thorin with the help of a group of stonemasons had carved the halls they lived in now into the mountainside when she was pregnant with Fíli. 

“The next generation of our line should grow up in proper mountain halls,” Thorin had said. 

The halls were finished just in time, for not a week after that Fíli was born, a healthy dwarrow with the features of the Durin’s line and golden hair like Vili. Dís was ready to burst with  _ joy.  _ However her marriage had been short, Vili died in a mining accident when she was pregnant with Kíli. But they had been incredibly happy, those short years were vibrant with joy and laughter.

In short life in the Blue Mountains had been good for Dís, they had not been rich but they had enough and she had been  _ happy _ for most of her time here. She had many  _ many _ doubts about Thorin’s quest but she held her tongue when Thorin made the announcement in front of  _ Thorin-dûm _ . Evidently she was not the only one with doubts, for only eleven dwarves volunteered for the quest. She thought that Thorin would decide the quest a folly but the next evening Thorin asked for her blessings: Fíli and Kíli were going with them and they were to depart in a fortnight.

“Haven’t I lost enough?” she couldn’t hold her tongue any longer.

“ _ Nan’ith…” _ Thorin’s face scrunched up in pain, “I still remember dragon fire in the sky and a city turned to ash. It was scorched into my mind, I do not forget, I will  _ never _ forgive.”

“I know you do  _ nadad, _ ” said Dís, “and I fear you all will be marching into fiery demise.”

“The portents have been read,” Thorin insisted, “Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold. When the birds of the old return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end.”

“But…” Dís looked at her sons helplessly.

“We wanted to go  _ amad, _ it is time.” said Fíli who was the perfect blend of Vili and Frerin, both too young when they died.

“And uncle needs us,” said Kíli, her bright Kíli who had brought her laughter back after Vili passed away.

“And nothing I can say that would change your mind?” she asked.

She was answered by three pairs of nearly identical determined eyes and though it pained her there were nothing else she could say but,

“Then I give you my blessing.”

She pulled her sons into her embrace and said a prayer to Mahal for their safety, the same prayer she said every night since they departed until today.

“I would never have guessed that a bowl of stew could provoke such deep thought,” said Ruva, pulling Dís back to the present.

“Excuse me?”

“You were staring quite forlornly at your bowl,  _ Uzbadnâtha _ .”

“Just thinking about the past,” said Dís, “I am an old dwarrowdam Ruva.”

“I missed my Glóin too,” Ruva smiled softly in understanding, “I was beyond relieved when Gimli was deemed too young to go on the quest.”

“He is doing well now I believe?” Dís asked.

“Oh aye, the rascal took a post as a guard’s runner last summer,” Ruva answered, then she noticed something and said, “Speaking of the dwarf…”

Dís looked at the road and she saw a young dwarf, as stout as any dwarf can be, running towards them. His red hair, bound in a single braid, bounced against his back and his short beard unadorned with braids.

“Excuse me  _ Zabdûnaê _ ,  _ amad, _ ” Gimli said as he reached them, “The King has returned!”

Dís’ bowl fell to the ground with a clatter. Mahal himself couldn’t make Thorin leave Erebor if the company managed to reclaim it. He would only come back to the Blue Mountains if the quest had failed. Dís felt her blood drained from her face and all of her fears came to the forefront of her mind without mercy.

“My sons…?” Dís asked.

“Is Glóin with him?” Ruva asked at the same time.

“Nay… it’s just Thorin.” Gimli answered hesitantly.

Her heart sank. Thorin was an honorable dwarf, he wouldn’t leave an injured dwarf behind. The fact that he was back  _ alone _ meant… Dís shuddered at the thought, it was too horrific for her to contemplate but she couldn’t shy away from the facts before her:  _ every other dwarf in the company had been slain. _ Tears came unbidden and fell down her cheeks to her beard.  _ Her sons are dead! Dead! _

“Where is he?” she asked Gimli.

“He was at the Glond outpost about one hour ago,” said Gimli a little awkwardly, “He should be halfway through Thraindabn by now.  _ Zabdûnaê _ I…”

Dís had stopped listening, fury rose in her chest like never before. She stood up and wiped her tears away. She ignored Ruva’s calls and strode down the road, her fist closed tight on the handle of her axe, she was determined to find her brother as soon as possible.

Thorin Oakenshield was a dead dwarf. He just didn’t know it yet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Khuzdul Translation!  
> Uzbadnâtha = Princess  
> Thorinmekhm = Thorin's Gate (the TA's dwarven capital in Ered Luin)  
> Thraindabn = Thrain's vale  
> Thorin-dûm = Thorin's halls  
> Gamz Uzbadnâtha u Durinul = Fierce Princess of Durin  
> Nan’ith = Younger sister  
> Nadad = Older brother  
> Amad = Mother  
> Zabdûnaê = My Lady
> 
> Riiiight... this chapter is a little bit heavy for what supposed to be a wacky/fluffy misunderstanding short fic. But rest assured Thorin will enter the stage in the next chapter and that one is definitely WAY more lighthearted :D


	2. Thorin was Having a Good Day - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello y'all! This chapter ended up waaaaayyy longer than I thought it's going to be, so I had to split it into two - otherwise you guys might have to wait another two weeks for the chapter X(
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

Thorin was in exceptionally good spirits as he walked down the road towards the dwarves’ settlement in the Blue Mountains. It was a beautiful spring day, the mountain breeze gently blew around him and rustled the green leaves above him. If Thorin was the type to whistle he would have been whistling quite merrily along the way, instead he hummed a walking song he had learned in The Shire under his breath as he walked on.

The last few weeks in The Shire had been nothing short of  _ blissful _ for him _. _ Bilbo had become quite eager and  _ adventurous _ in their bedplay now that his adventure is over and they were safe in the privacy behind his round green door. Thorin was not about to complain about any of it, he had never had this much bedjoys in his life. He was by no means inexperienced before he met Bilbo, but all that had been limited to the occasional tumble to release tensions once in a while. But  _ Bilbo, _ his beautiful and full of sass hobbit with clever fingers and  _ talented _ mouth, was a force to be reckoned with. 

“Have mercy  _ amrâlimê _ ,” panted Thorin one night - completely blissed out, “This old dwarf couldn’t keep up with you.”

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Bilbo languidly crawled up to snuggle with him, “You’ve been doing all right, my dear.”

Thorin smiled at the memory, it had been  _ very good _ weeks. However as a dwarf with responsibilities, his time at the Shire wasn’t all play. He and Bilbo had worked to make the Shirefolk - who were highly suspicious of outsiders - open to the idea of trade with the dwarves that would travel back to Erebor. His first task was to  _ mingle _ at the Spring-fest and to make  _ good impressions. _

Thorin had been worried about the spring fest, he wasn’t friendly or jovial in nature and he doubted that he could charm the hobbits with his stern and grim demeanor. Bilbo had patted him on the arm and told him not to worry, and that he would do just fine. However Bilbo did insist that he would need new clothes.

“Whatever is wrong with  _ my _ clothes?” Thorin had asked.

“Well they are either not formal enough…” Bilbo eyed the loose shirt and trews that Thorin had taken to wear daily and then turned his eyes to Thorin’s armours that were stacked neatly in the corner, “Or too…”

“Warlike?” guessed Thorin.

“I was about to say scary but warlike worked better.” Bilbo shrugged.

That was how Thorin agreed to be subjected to Bilbo’s tailor the next afternoon. She was a stern and old looking hobbit-lady who dressed so impeccably that Thorin immediately felt underdressed in his shirt and trews.

“Good afternoon Miss Buttons, how is your dear Mimosa?” Bilbo greeted her.

“Afternoon Mister Baggins. Mimosa is healthy as a pony, the old lass.” Miss Buttons eyed Bilbo with speculation, “A new shirt? Or perhaps a handsome waistcoat?”

“You’re not here for me this time Miss Buttons.” Bilbo smiled at the tailor’s antics, “May I introduce you to my friend, Thorin son of Thrain?”

“Good afternoon Miss Buttons,” Thorin greeted politely.

“The dwarf that everyone has been talking about, I presume?” she said excitedly, “You do know how to treat an old lass Mister Baggins, I do love trying new things.”

Thorin shrunk back unconsciously at the hobbit’s sudden exuberance and looked at Bilbo for help. However Bilbo just smiled serenely back.

“Bit of a rush order I’m afraid, he needs something for the spring-fest.” Bilbo told Miss Buttons easily.

“Don’t you worry Mister Baggins,” she waved at Bilbo absently and went on to look at Thorin with scrutiny, “What look are we going with? Forlorn gentle-dwarf? Dashing prince from faraway? Oh! How about sultry noble-dwarf?”

“I- what?” none of this  _ made sense _ to Thorin. 

He looked at Bilbo again who just looked like he was actually considering the options!

“Friendly foreign ambassador with a tragic story, I think,” said Bilbo.

‘What does that  _ even mean!?’ _ thought Thorin, he was utterly lost in the conversation.

“You have good eyes, Mister Baggins, he will pull that off rather nicely,” said Miss Buttons approvingly.

“That’s settled then!” Bilbo clapped his hand excitedly.

Exactly  _ what _ is settled, Thorin had no idea. He was also a little bit uneasy with how the tailor would refer to Bilbo about  _ his _ clothes. He was used to being the one referred to, being outranked is a rather unnerving experience.

“Now since this is a rush order, I will need to work from existing materials.” said Miss Buttons apologetically.

“Of course,” Bilbo nodded in understanding, “Thorin, be a dear and bring your clothes for Miss Buttons to see please?”

Thorin gave up on understanding the situation and went to do as told. He hoped that they wouldn’t dress him up like a loon, or worse - like an  _ elf _ . His clothes were put together from whatever they could find in Erebor, they all were at least a century old and rather worn. When Thorin came back with the handful of clothes, Bilbo and Miss Buttons were bent over some papers containing what looked like sketches and were discussing  _ cuts _ .

Thorin cleared his throat to announce himself. Bilbo looked up and smiled when he saw him. Bilbo gave out his smiles often and freely but Thorin still felt warm inside whenever the smile was directed at him.

“Ah you’re back Mr. Thrainson!” said Miss Buttons, startling Thorin, “Let us see the goods!”

“Just Thorin is fine, Miss Buttons.” Thorin tried not to blush for being caught staring like a lovestruck simpleton and set down the clothes on the table.

The tailor ignored Thorin’s answer and dug into the pile with relish, hmm-ing and haw-ing at each piece. She pulled up one particularly worn out tunic, it was falling apart but the embroidered edges were still quite intact.

“The pattern, does it signify your family line?” she asked him.

“Aye that was the knotwork of Durin,” Thorin answered.

“Do you mind if I work this into something else?” Miss Buttons asked again with an eager gleam in her eyes.

“Not at all.” it seemed to be the safest answer that Thorin could give, he never felt much attachment to his clothes after all.

So it continued until Miss Buttons picked out a couple of tunics out of the pile with the promise of making it into something respectable.

“You can keep your trews and boots.” said Miss Buttons, “That should say foreign quite loudly, no shirefolk would ever wear boots. Though I suggest commissioning a set of  _ proper trousers… _ ” 

“One thing at a time, Miss Buttons.” Bilbo steered her back to the matter at hand.

“Right,” she sighed, “He would need new shirts, these ones wouldn’t do at all! And I should be able to make at least two waistcoats from these materials.”

Bilbo nodded along and Thorin relaxed a little, the items didn’t sound too out there for his comfort.

“Now measurements,” Miss Buttons took out a tape measure from her bag and strode toward Thorin with such purpose that he involuntarily took a step back.

Thorin could hear Bilbo’s chuckles, the absolute  _ traitor, _ so he steeled himself and let the hobbit-lady measure what seemed to be  _ every inch _ of his body. Eventually she was satisfied with the measurements and jotted down a couple last things in her notebook.

“One last thing Mister Baggins, the buttons?” she asked Bilbo.

“Silver,” Bilbo smiled like a cat who got the cream.

“Oh my.  _ That  _ would definitely make tongues wag,” said Miss Buttons with a rather wolf-like smile.

####  ***

Thorin chuckled to himself as he remembered his first bizarre meeting with Miss Buttons, the old hobbit lady is definitely a character. Thorin stopped his trek and looked around him,

“Oh for Durin’s sake!” he muttered.

He was so lost in remembrance that he had taken the wrong turn! He turned around to backtrack to the crossroad. He silently thanked Mahal that it was such a good day for walking, he wouldn't want to be lost in the middle of a rainstorm. As he walked he spotted a great beech tree that was very similar to the Party Tree at Hobbiton. That brought him back to the day of the Spring-Fest.

The clothes arrived the day before and to Thorin’s eternal relief it was just shirts and waistcoats. That morning he put on the grey shirt that fell just below his waistline, unlike the knee-length tunics he was used to. The waistcoat was Durin blue and hemmed with the embroideries from his old clothes. 

Thorin used to think that these kinds of frippery as unimportant, however just a week in The Shire had shown him that hobbits read as much from one’s clothing as dwarves from their hair and braids. Thorin looked at himself in the mirror: the clothes looked rather hobbit-ish but combined with his trews and boots they were also unmistakably  _ dwarfish. _

‘Friendly dwarven ambassador indeed,’ Thorin thought with amusement, thinking back at the bizarre conversation between Bilbo and his tailor.

“You look very handsome,” said Bilbo from the doorway, breaking his musing.

Thorin turned around, Bilbo himself was also dressed to the nines. He wore a cream coloured silk shirt underneath a sunshine yellow waistcoat. The waistcoat was delicately embroidered with irises, Thorin had picked up enough of flower meanings to remember that Iris signified royalty. However what made Thorin’s eyes widen was the buttons, he had ever seen Bilbo wearing gold before and Thorin could tell that it was pure and  _ old _ .

“These are nifty little trinkets.” said Bilbo, noticing Thorin’s look, “The stories said that Gandalf gave it to the first Baggins. They would only fasten if worn by the reigning Baggins, these should quiet the folks that  _ still _ thought I am an impostor.”

“Only a hobbit would describe magic golden buttons as mere  _ trinkets,” _ Thorin huffed a laugh.

“Because that’s what they are!” Bilbo laughed and joined Thorin in front of the mirror to tie a blue cravat around his collar.

“How do I look?” Bilbo asked after he was satisfied with the knot.

“Fishing for compliments are we?” said Thorin with a smile and bent down to kiss Bilbo softly on the cheek. Thorin took Bilbo’s crown from the mantlepiece and set it atop his curls, “You look perfect,  _ bunnanunê _ .”

“Thank you.” Bilbo smiled, “and this is for you.”

Bilbo pinned a stalk of red flowers with a simple brass brooch on Thorin’s chest.

“What’s this for?” Thorin asked.

“Insurance.” said Bilbo simply. 

Bilbo did not explain any further, though Thorin could see a light dusting of pink on his cheek. He decided to humour Bilbo and did not push for an explanation. Bilbo wanted the trade agreement as bad as him, so Thorin was sure that his new decoration wouldn’t hurt their cause. 

Thorin followed Bilbo to the very aptly named Party Field where the festival was held every year. They walked towards the head table, all around them folks were already milling around and most of them had some sort of food and drinks in their hands. Bilbo greeted the odd hobbit here and there and when they reached the table Fortinbras Took, the Thain of Westfarthing, and his wife were already seated with a cup of tea each.

Thorin was familiar with the hobbits, Fortinbras and Clover had visited Bag-End shortly after Bilbo’s return though Thorin hadn’t got the chance to visit Tuckborough as the hobbits had invited him to. They exchanged pleasantries as they took their seats and not a moment after, a tray of hot beverages was delivered to the table. Thorin picked up a cup of coffee and listened as Bilbo and Fortinbras - in a way that he’d only seen between hobbits - chatted about nothing and everything.

They sat there for a few minutes before Bilbo was called on the podium that was set underneath a massive beech tree to officially open the festivities. Bilbo cleared out his throat for attention and the entire field quieted down. Thorin cast his eyes around the field as Bilbo called out every hobbit family in attendance, each group nodded in satisfaction or cheered when their family name was called. Bilbo then proceeded to give a speech to welcome the arrival of Spring.

“So come snow after fire, and even dragons have their ending,” said Bilbo with a meaningful nod towards Thorin, winding down towards the end of his speech, and went on to address the masses, “Though snow will surely melt, leaving in its wake harvest of spring flowers! Ladies and Gentlehobbits, let us open the fest with Spring Prayer.”

All of the hobbits in attendance raised up whatever they had in their hand, may it drinks, foods, or even flowers, and recited as one:

_ “Here come spring after winter, _

_ may Our Lady bless us for this year _

_ Fruitful earth and safe shelter, _

_ may us seldom be late for supper!” _

Thorin smiled at the utter hobbit-ness of the prayer but he silently offered a small prayer to Mahal for a fruitful and safe year for the dwarves as well. The folks cheered and the festivities began in earnest. Bilbo walked down the podium with a smile and a group of musicians took his place and started to play a jaunty tune.

“Come,” Bilbo said to Thorin, “I’ll introduce you around.”

Thorin dutifully followed Bilbo and was introduced to various Bagginses, Tooks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Chubb-Bagginses, Hornblowers, Goodbodies, Cotmans, Cottons and many more until Thorin started to lose track. He dug into his long unused court manners, channeled his inner Balin to the best of his ability, and politely greeted every single hobbit. Bilbo had coached him on what to say to make the hobbits interested and  _ invested _ in the fate of the dwarves, but the words felt stilted on his tongue. Mercifully, Bilbo had taken the lead and Thorin was happy to follow. 

“Original Ereborian thread work they are!” said Bilbo when the Cottons complimented the embroidery on Thorin’s waistcoat, “Took it back from the mountain ourselves after Erebor was reclaimed!”

“A feat we couldn’t have done without  _ your _ esteemed Mister Baggins here,” said Thorin gravely, playing his part, “We are indebted to The Shire.”

“The dwarves had made their home there after being  _ displaced _ ,” said Bilbo when the Grubbs mentioned a dwarf they had met from Ered Luin.

“It was nothing compared to Erebor it was safer than wandering for our dwarflings,” said Thorin dutifully

“More than  _ three decades  _ of wandering! Could you imagine?” said Bilbo to the Goodbodies.

“Aye, it was a difficult time for us,” replied Thorin, “Tell me Mrs. Goodbody, is it true that Hobbits once wandered as well?”

Thorin had heard a saying when he worked amongst men, how someone would dance around a subject. Currently, as he watched Bilbo drop hints here and there before pulling him into a different group of hobbits, Thorin realized how it was truly a  _ dance. _ Bilbo masterfully led him around the field, giving just enough information to pull heartstrings and stoke curiosity. Thorin relaxed into the motions as he focused on Bilbo and danced with him.

However there was one thing that was bothering him: everyone seemed to have unspoken opinions about the flower on his chest. The older hobbits had looked a little scandalized when they saw the flower pinned on Thorin’s chest and the younger hobbits had been  _ thoroughly amused. _ The lads had clapped Bilbo’s back and the lasses had sighed and giggled. Thorin became more and more curious about the meaning of the flower but in a true hobbit fashion,  _ no one  _ said anything outright.

Thorin couldn’t linger on his frustration as he followed Bilbo to the next group of hobbits, and the next,  _ and the next. _ Before he knew it it was time for lunch and they were invited to sit with the Proudfoots. The food was excellent and it buoyed Thorin’s spirits as he did the same song and dance that he had done at least a dozen times this morning, casually mentioning the dams and dwarflings that would undertake the long journey to Erebor.

As the lunch went on Bilbo somehow shifted the subject to a very heated debate on the proper pluralization of the Proudfoot family name. Some firmly thought it should be Proudfoots while others favoured Proudfeet. Thorin was spared from the debate since dwarves did not use a family name like hobbits do. At last their dishes were cleared and cakes and teas were served for dessert.

“Poppy seed,” Linda Proudfoot nee Baggins frowned at her seed cake, “The Tooks are always so adventurous with their recipe! Whatever is wrong with the traditional caraway?”

“Variety is the spice of life, Aunt Linda,” said Bilbo, “I’m thinking of adding black gram to my next batch.”

“ _ You _ would think so,” Linda sighed and flicked a glance at Thorin.

As Thorin suspected, the conversation had not been about baking  _ at all _ .

“Just be careful lad,” said Linda again, “Some ingredients may cause the cake to not rise.”

“And yet a biscuit is just as tasty as a cake,” Bilbo smiled with just a tad too many teeth.

Thorin had his suspicions about what the old hobbit-lady was warning Bilbo about. But before he could offer his opinion, a hobbit around Bilbo’s age approached them. He was one of Took cousins, if Thorin remembered correctly.

“Bilbo, Mr. Thorin, Mrs. Proudfoot,” the hobbit greeted with a charming smile, “May I steal Mister Thorin for a round of drinks with the lads?”

“Sigismond Took,” said Bilbo, perfectly pleasant but for a slight narrowing in his eyes, “Where is your lovely Gyles?”

“At home with the faunts, little Rosa was fussing earlier” answered Sigismond as pleasantly, “They will be back later in the afternoon.”

Bilbo’s plump lips pursed momentarily before he straightened his waistcoat and his pleasant smile was back on his face.

“It’s probably good if you mingle without me,” said Bilbo, leaving the choice to Thorin.

Thorin hesitated, they had talked through the possibility of mingling on his own but he wasn’t sure that he could do it. He thought that he had done well so far but  _ Bilbo was with him. _ However he knew that Bilbo was right, it was likely to be good if he went around without Bilbo for a little while. Let it not be said that Thorin Oakenshiled balked in the face of hardship and the fact that Bilbo will be proud of him if he could do this had nothing to do with anything at all.

Well.

Maybe a little bit.

Thorin rose up from his seat and excused himself from the Proudfoots.

“Sigis,  _ behave.” _ Thorin heard Bilbo say to his Took cousin as Thorin promised Mrs. Proudfoot he would definitely come by for tea.

Bilbo squeezed Thorin’s wrist as he passed by Bilbo’s seat. A warm squeeze on the wrist could mean many things, but Thorin knew Bilbo well enough to understand that this meant  _ ‘I’ll be here if you need me’ _ . 

So Thorin replied with a soft smile that meant  _ ‘I know’ _ .

Bilbo let his arm go and went back to his conversation on the table.

“Lead the way Mr. Took,” said Thorin to Sigismond Took.

“Just Sigis please, or Sigismond if you must,” said the hobbit with an easy smile.

Sigismond led him to a table where a few other hobbits were already seated with half-pints of ales on their hand. Thorin recognized them from his rounds earlier that day.

“Here he is, lads!” said Sigismond to the table, “Now drink up!”

Cheers and groans came from the table as they all emptied their tankards. Thorin immediately bristled, was he at the wrong end of a joke?

“No offence meant Mr. Thorin, s’just a friendly wager,” said Falco Chubb-Baggins, “Please have a seat.”

“Aye, aye. We thought you might want a break from the smoochin’ around!” said Isengar Took as Thorin took a seat with a slight trepidation.

“Drogo, be a lad and get us a new round will ya?” said Randall Bolger.

“Why me?” said Drogo Baggins.

“Dudo is not here, so you’re the youngest,” said Posco Baggins, “Don’t forget to get one for Mr. Thorin!”

The youngest hobbit in the group grumbled for a bit but he collected the empty tankards and went for refills anyway.

“So Mr. Thorin, how are you liking the Spring-fest so far?” asked Sigismond.

“The food is excellent,” answered Thorin, he had not been paying attention to anything else since he was busy  _ mingling _ with Bilbo.

“Bilbo kept you busy eh?” said Posco with a laugh, “Never had the head for it myself. Randy’s ma once talked to me about the old family recipe for  _ thirty minutes _ before I realized she wanted to borrow some butter! ‘I thank the Lady you’re not going to be  _ the  _ Baggins!’ my da said!”

The table exploded in raucous laughter. 

“The lad gone all proper on us after his da died,” said Isengar after the laughter subsided, “T’was a shame, Bilbo always had the best drinking song.”

“Bit of a scandal for the family when he went off with you Mr. Thorin,” said Randall, “I’m glad he’s back though.”

“I apologize that Bilbo’s journey has caused strife to your family,” said Thorin, “But I’m glad he went with us. We wouldn’t have succeeded without him.”

“Don’t you worry Mr. Thorin, them Bagginses is rather fussy about being all proper,” said Sigismond, “It's good to see that he still has the Took in him!”

Drogo came back with everyone’s ale at that moment and quickly passed it around.

“What did I miss?” he asked.

“Not much,” said Posco, “Just the fuss Bilbo caused when he went off with the dwarves.”

“Ooooh. I hear old Longo nearly burst a vein over that,” said Drogo.

“Ahh. That’s better,” said Isengar after taking a healthy gulp from his tankard, “Nevermind about Longo Sackville-Baggins, I never liked the old fusspot. Now the real question is: Is it true that you’re  _ really old _ Mr. Thorin?”

“Isengar Took!” gasped Falco, “That’s… that’s not  _ polite!” _

“Come on Fosco! Don’t say you aren’t curious?” said Isengar.

Falco became red in his face and sputtered.

“I will be one hundred and ninety six this year,” said Thorin evenly before the conversation could derail even more.

_ “Really?” _ said Randall.

Thorin nodded and took a sip of his ale, it tasted like winter berries - sweet and a little bit tart. It was very different that the dwarven ales that he was used to but it was still very good. Thorin slowly drank his ale as the conversation turned into the discussion about how hobbits and dwarves aged differently. Thorin could admit to himself that the fact that he and Bilbo have roughly the same amount of years left before they would pass pleased him greatly.

Thorin also noticed that the hobbits drank  _ a lot _ . In the time that it took him to finish his half-pint, each of them had at least three more rounds. 

“Isn’t it a little early in the day to be so deep in your cups?” asked Thorin curiously.

“On any other day, probably yes. But today is the Spring-fest!” said Posco raucously. 

“Tis also best to be drunk when Hel arrives,” added Isengar who was already on his fifth half-pints since Thorin joined them.

“Hell?” asked Thorin.

“Heliotrope Took, the purple flower of Tuckborough, the most beautiful hobbit in Westfarthing,” said Sigismond sipping from his third refill, “Also in charge of afternoon tea this year.”

“Still not as beaut… boot…  _ lovely _ as our Bilbo when he was younger!” said Falco who was on his fourth.

“He’s  _ still lovely.” _ sighed Drogo into his tankard.

“Aww… didn’t you ask him to marry you once?” said Randall as he ruffled Drogo’s dark curls.

“I was  _ seventeen!” _ Drogo flushed, “And he just… patted my cheek and sent me home for supper…”

“Bilbo never showed much interest in any lass or lad, I guess now we know why,” said SIgismond while giving Thorin an very obvious once over, “You lads wouldn’t believe how  _ jealous _ he was when I asked whether we can steal Mr. Thorin for a bit!”

“That’s cause  _ you _ have a reputation, you  _ sybarite! _ Never knew what sweet Gyles saw in you…” said Posco who was married to Gyles’ older sister Gilly.

“S’not like anyone would dare to make a move on Mr. Thorin.” sniffed Falco.

“Aye, not with that big warning sign on his chest!” Isengar tried to poke the flower pinned on Thorin but in his drunkenness he missed it entirely and fell off the chair onto the feet of a hobbit-lass instead.

“Hel!” Isengar smiled at the lass from the ground.

Said hobbit-lass did not look very impressed at the state that her cousin was in.

“I suppose there is no use asking you drunks to help with the firewood wagon?” she asked with a  _ very pleasant _ tone.

Thorin had lived with his sister long enough to recognize the tone. It was the tone that had been perfected by dams everywhere. The tone that promised  _ many _ unpleasant things to come. So with the instinct that was deeply ingrained within him, Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, son of Thrór, former King Under the Mountain said,

“I could help?”

“Mr. Thorin!” Heliotrope’s demeanour changed completely, “You don’t have to! Just enjoy the fest Mr. Thorin. You’re a  _ guest!” _

“I believe it will do me good Miss Took,” said Thorin as he rose from his seat and carefully walked around Isengar who was still lying on the ground, “I’m afraid I do not have the hobbits’ constitution for food and drink! I couldn’t keep up with the gentlehobbits here and some labour would help settle down my lunch.”

“ _ Das _ why Bilbo liked him and not  _ you,” _ Thorin heard someone slurred behind him.

Thorin ignored his heated ears and looked at the hobbit-lass expectantly.

“I suppose… if it really will help you… and I could really use the help…” Emerald said hesitantly.

“I assure you,” said Thorin with a little smile, reminding himself to be polite as Bilbo said, “I wouldn’t be able to have afternoon tea otherwise.”

“Oh!” said Heliotrope, “Very well then! Please follow me Mr. Thorin.”

Thorin followed Heliotrope to the west side of the field where a wagon full of firewood was being unloaded by a few hobbits. Thorin noticed that the lass looked a little flushed, the poor thing must be overwhelmed with the work. He held back a smile as she reminded him of Dís who would  _ never _ admit that something was too much for her.

Thorin greeted the hobbits at work with a simple ‘Good day’, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work. The wagon was unloaded quickly with Thorin’s help and they went on to carry the firewoods to the tea preparation area. Over there, a gaggle of hobbits were busy preparing what looked like a giant stove with a flat iron top.

“Firewood!” One of the hobbits that came with Thorin called out.

“Over here!” another hobbit called back.

They went and put the firewoods in the space provided. It took Thorin and the hobbit-crew two more trips to finish moving all of it. When Thorin put away his last load, the hobbits had begun arranging the firewood underneath the and kettles were being filled with water ready to be put on it once the fire was lit. Thorin brushed the dust and splinters from his coat and took a little time to straighten the flower on his chest, then he went to find Emerald Took.

“Is there anything else I could help with?” asked Thorin when he found her with a group of hobbit-lass.

“You’ve done more than enough Mr. Thorin,” Heliotrope smiled as her companions giggled behind her, “Why don’t you take a break? Afternoon tea will be ready in a couple of hours.”

Thorin nodded at her, he could use a smoke break. He excused himself and went to a quiet meadow at the east side of the Party Field. He took out his pipe from his pocket and lit the bowl, he took a deep inhale and blew out a cloud of smoke. He looked around the beautiful green meadow peppered with colourful blooming flowers. There’s an odd sense of peace about The Shire and its folks. Thorin closed his eyes and took a deep breath, he never thought that he would feel so settled above ground. 

Suddenly, he was startled by something colliding with his legs. He opened his eyes, looked down, and found a pair of big brown eyes staring back at him. The eyes started to water and the hobbit-child gave out a mighty wail. Thorin immediately knelt down and tried to comfort the child.

“Hush… it’s alright…” he said soothingly, “I’m not going to hurt you…”

And then he was ambushed by a group of children. The children were jumping on him with peals of laughter and cries of “For the Shire!” Thorin fell back to the ground with laughter and let the children climb all over him.

“You have been captured Mr. Dwarf!” said a small lass, “You’re now our host… hoot…”

“Hostage!” cried another tiny lad.

Thorin broke into a smile despite himself, he had played ‘capture Uncle Thorin’ many times when Fíli and Kíli were younger and he knew the drill.

“Oh no!” said Thorin, “Whatever you’re going to do with me now?”

“We are going to… uh…” the small lass hesitated.

“What do we do now Hol?” the lad that bumped at Thorin in the first place whispered, tears nowhere to be seen.

“I don’t know Hal! I haven’t thought of it yet!” Hol whispered back.

Thorin chuckled at the whispered conversation.

“Well I’m friends with Mister Bilbo Baggins, do you think he will ransom me?” Thorin asked.

“Thank you for your suggeschon Mr. Thorin,” said Hol, “Ansel, go find Mister Baggins an’ ask for ransom!”

“But Hol… my ma said that Mister Baggins is a very ‘portant hobbit and we shood not disturb ‘portant hobbits!” said Ansel.

“We could… wait for him?” said the other hobbit-lass.

“And Mr. Dwarf shood sit an’ be quiet like a proper hobbit!” Hal added.

“Yes!” said Hol, “Please sit and be quiet Mr. Dwarf.”

Thorin raised an eyebrow but he complied and settled himself so he was sitting comfortably on the ground. The children all settled around him, after a couple of minutes they began to fidget.

“This is not fun Hol…” Hal whined.

“Hush!” said Hol, “We must guard the hostage!”

“If I may offer a suggestion, little Miss?” Thorin asked with amusement.

Hol looked at him with squinty eyes. 

“You may Mr. Dwarf,” she said.

“Why don’t we introduce ourselves like a proper hobbit?” he suggested.

The children brightened immediately.

“Yes! Holly Overhill at your service!” said Hol, “Ma said Holly means foresight!”

“Ansel Burrows at your service!” said Ansel, “Da said it means I’m pertected by the Valar!”

“Aster Burrows at your service!” said the other hobbit lass, “Aster means dainty,” she scrunched her face.

“Halfast Overhill at your service!” said Hal, “I dunno what Halfast means…”

“Thorin Oakenshield at yours and your family,” said Thorin, an idea popped up in his mind, “Say lass, you seem to know the language of flowers well..”

“Me and Hol are learnin the flower stories this year!” said Aster.

“Do you lovely lasses know what this flower means?” Thorin pointed at the flower on his chest.

The lasses came close to him and examined the flower.

“I know it! It's red salvia! Ma said you shoodnt give it to other hobbit until you’re a grownup!” said Holly.

“Aye,” Aster nodded sagely, “It means ‘forever mine’ and forever is a long time!”

Thorin was surprised at the meaning, he felt warmth blooming in his chest as a smile bloomed on his face. Thorin cradled the warmth close and proceeded to ask more questions to the hobbitlings. One thing led to another and when Bilbo came to find him Thorin was braiding Aster’s hair with flowers, Holly was putting flowers all over his hair, while Ansel and Halfast were running around in the meadow gathering more flowers for their sisters.

“This is rather unexpected,” said Bilbo

“Mister Baggins! Good afternoon!” the children greeted Bilbo on top of each other in a jumble of words.

“Good Afternoon, children,” Bilbo greeted back with an amused smile, “what do we have here?”

“I’m afraid I’ve been captured by these fierce warriors,” answered Thorin.

“But Mr. Thorin, we’re not warriors,” said Aster, “We are the shirriffs!”

“Well then,” Bilbo chuckled, “You have done well young shirriffs! I believe I can take it from here!”

“What does that mean?” whispered Ansel.

“I think we shood give Mr. Thorin back?” whispered Halfast back.

“But I still wanna play!” Holly whispered furiously.

“Should I mention that the cakes are being served?” said Bilbo innocently.

The children perked up at the mention of cakes and then it was an easy task to send them back to the party with an assortments of “Thank you Mister Baggins!” and “Goodbye Mr. Thorin!”.

Bilbo held out a hand to help Thorin up and Thorin took it gladly. He stood up and brushed away the dirt from his trews. He raised his hand to brush the flowers out of his hair, however Bilbo held his hand to stop him.

“I rather you leave it in,” said Bilbo, “They are quite fitting on you.”

“Are they?”

“Wood sorrel for good-heartedness and cowslip for adventure and comeliness,” smiled Bilbo, “I’d say they are, my dear.”

Thorin took Bilbo’s hand and rested it gently over the flower that Bilbo had pinned on his chest that morning,

“And red salvia?” asked Thorin.

“Ah…” Bilbo blushed adorably, “Am I… being too presumptuous?”

Thorin smiled down at Bilbo and took out a stalk of bluebells that he had pocketed once the girls told him it’s meaning. He tucked it gently behind Bilbo’s ear.

“Not at all.”

Bilbo's answering smile was as bright as the sun who gave live to the green earth. Thorin bent down to kiss that smile lightly and rested his forehead against Bilbo’s.

“Dear...” said Bilbo after a few moments, “we need to go back to the party, we’ve been invited for tea with the Bolgers.

Thorin reluctantly pulled himself apart from Bilbo,

“After you,  _ amrâlimê.” _

Tea with the Bolgers was very similar to lunch with the Proudfoots. However the matriarch of the family, one Mrs. Belba Bolger nee Baggins stayed quiet throughout afternoon tea and watched Thorin like a hawk. Thorin felt uncomfortable under the scrutiny, he wondered whether he had offended the hobbit somehow. 

Thorin was fighting the urge to shift with unease or to take the flowers out of his hair when he felt a hand on his knee. He looked at Bilbo who gave him a soft smile and a warm squeeze on the knee, Thorin immediately felt more grounded. He smiled back at Bilbo and put his hand over Bilbo’s and went back to the conversation on the table. They kept their hands together for the rest of the afternoon tea.

“I think that’s enough work today,” said Bilbo after they took their leave from the Bolgers, “Would you… ah… would you like to dance?”

Bilbo was looking at him nervously, his cheeks were stained with red, and his smile uncertain. Thorin couldn’t find it in his heart to say no, however…

“I’m afraid I do not know any hobbit dance,  _ umralumê.” _

“Then it’s a good thing that today isn’t Lithe or Yule,” said Bilbo, “For we dance however we like on Spring-fest!”

“If that’s the case,” said Thorin having no more reason to decline, “lead the way Mister Baggins.”

Bilbo led them to a clearing near the Party Tree where many hobbit couples were dancing merrily to the music, none of them dancing the same dance. They joined in without a fuss and they danced and laughed, making up the steps as they went along. Thorin felt lighter than he had ever been, dancing on the grass with Bilbo.

It was late evening when they finally made their way back to Bag End after more dancing, supper, and a rousing closing speech by Fortinbras. It was a long day for both of them so they decided to take turns to wash up and went to bed. Bilbo was already half asleep when Thorin came to bed after his bath. Thorin gently climbed in beside Bilbo and tucked both of them under the blanket. He pulled Bilbo close to him, buried his nose into Bilbo’s curl, and fell asleep within moments. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Regarding flower meanings/symbology:
> 
> Red Salvia = forever mine (added with the bronze pin, Bilbo basically put a giant sign on Thorin saying "HANDS OFF HE'S MINE")  
> Bluebell = everlasting love 
> 
> Let me know if there are things that I haven't translated/explained from the story (or if you spot any spelling/grammar mistakes)!
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTE: 29/10/2020  
> Hey guys... 
> 
> I know that this hasn't been updated in a while. To be honest with you, it's likely not going to for a while either. I'm currently struglling with time since I'm currently working on 2 freelance project on top of my current job (plus my city is going in and out of lockdown like a flipcard). 
> 
> I'm puting this story on indefinite hiatus but it's definitely not abandoned! Stay safe and healthy everyone :)


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